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MINQ M. REVELL CO. 



Zbc %mnQ Christ. 



Ibe %Mng Cbrist: 

Easter XCbouobts 



tor 



Cbe Iking's Bauobters. 



MARY LOWE"^DlCKINSON, 



General Secretary of the 0| 



: 3f Icmina 1b. TRcvcU Co. : : 



New York : 
12 bible house, astor place. 



Chicago : 

148 and 150 MADISON STREET. 



Ipublisbcrs of £vandclical literature. 



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Copyright, 1891, 
FLEMING H. Revei.1. Company. 



Xovingl^ 3)e&icate& 
^be Central Council 

" -Of- 

^be ©rDer ot **^be IRina's 2>au9btcr6 " 
jEastej 'G:l^e, 1891* 

JBs tbe Butbor. 



Unvocatton. 




WELL Thou in all, O tender Christ 
and sweet, 
Who bring their Easter offerings 
to Thy feet. 
Let care, and bitterness, and sin find room, 
To lie in death — in Thy deserted tomb. 
Bid Thy strong Angels guard the sealed 

door, 
That self come forth, to curse Thy world no 

more. 
Thy life be life of all earth's precious things, 
Thy throne the hearts that crown Thee 
King of Kings. 



Zhc Xlvlng Cbdet 




Y E, the lilies are pure in their pallor; 
the roses are fragrant and sweet ; 
The music pours out like a sea- 
wave pulsing in praise at His feet, 
Pulsing in passionate praises that Jesus is 

risen again, 
But we look for the signs of His living in the 
hearts of the children of men. 

Wherever a soft hand of pity falls soft on a 

wound or a woe ; 
Wherever a peace or a pardon springs up to 

o'er-master a foe ; 
Wherever a tender heart's mercy out-reaches 

to succor a need ; 
Wherever springs heahng for wounding, the 

Master is risen indeed. 



Wherever the soul of a people arises in 

courage and might, 
And flings off the grave-bands that shrouded 

'^5 its hope in the gloom of the night; 
Wherever in sight of God's legions the 

armies of evil recede 
And truth wins a soul or a kingdom, — the 

Master is risen indeed. 

So fling out your banners, brave toilers, bring 

lilies to altar and shrine. 
Ring out, Easter bells, He is risen. For you 

is the token and sign ; — 
There's a world moving sunward and Godward, 

Ye are called to the front, ye must lead; 
Behind are the grave and the darkness; 

The Master is risen indeed. 



lEaotcr Hilxce. 




OT as we bring our garlands to a 
tomb, 
To breathe heart-fragrance o'er a 
_-^ lost one's rest, 

Bring we this wreath of sweetness and 
of bloom 
To cro\¥n this day, of all our days the best ; 

But as if love, and gratitude and prayer, 
Lying in grave-dark that enwrapped His 

face, 
Had seen His smile break forth with won- 
drous grace 
And sudden blossomed into beauty there. 

As if along the way that felt His tread 
Life burst from death as flowers from 

the sod ; 
So new life springs to meet the heart 
of God, 
In joyful praise that Christ no more is dead. 



ZTbe lEaater fIDora 




Y thy Lenten sorrow led, 

Wouldst thou weep beside the 

dead, 
Silent on His rock-hewn bed ? 
Stealing, sobbing, through the gloom, 
Would thy penitence find room, 
Sackcloth-clad, within His tomb ? 

Hush ! thy broken spirit's moan 
Cannot pierce the gate of stone. 

Entering where he lies, alone ; 
Nor the clamor of thy cries 

Once uplift the sealed eyes — 
Cause the stricken form to rise. 



Were riven, that, living, Thy life might save. 
But blind and wayward I could not see 
Thou wert coming to dwell with me, e'en me; 
And my heart o'erburdened with care and 

sin, 
Had no fair chambers to take Thee in : 

Hot one clean spot for Thy foot to tread, 
Not one pure pillow to rest Thy head ; 
There was nothing to offer, no bread, no 

wine. 
No oil of joy in this heart of mine ; 
And yet the light of Thy kingly face 
Illumed for Thyself, a small, dark place, 
And I crept to the spot by Thy smile made 

sweet, 
And tears came ready to wash Thy feet. 

Now let me come nearer, O Lord Divine, 
Make in my soul for Thyself a shrine ; 
Cleanse, till the desolate place shall be 



Fit for a dwelling, dear Lord, for Thee* 
Rear, if Thou wilt, a throne in my breast, 
Reign, I will worship and serve my guest. 
While Thou art in me— and in Thee 1 

abide — 
No end can come to the Easter tide. 





tCbe Jgaster (BncBt 



^KNEW Thou wert coming, O Lord 
Divine, 
I felt in the sunlight a softened 
shine, 

And a murmur of welcome I thought I heard, 
In the ripple of brooks and the chirp of bird; 
And the bursting buds and the springing grass 
Seemed to be waiting to see Thee pass ; 
And the sky, and the sea, and the throb- 
bing sod 
Pulsed and thrilled to the touch of God. 

I knew Thou wert coming, O Love Divine, 
To gather the world's heart up to Thine ; 
I know the bonds of the rock-hewn grave 



Hush ! draw nearer while ye pray, 

Through the night-gloom breaks the day — 

Lo, the stone is rolled away ! 
Bend and look ! Beside the bed 

Where he lay— the royal Dead- 
Watching angels wait instead. 

Hark! upon the lii:tening ear, 
Falls a voice serene and clear 

" He is risen," " He is not here." 
Is not here ! then where, O where? 

If we find Him not, despair 
Is the answer to our prayer. 

Nay, not so — the soul in pain 

Ne'er need miss His face again-— 
Jesus lives, and lives to reign. 

As beneath the Olive bough. 
With the glory on His brow 

Mary saw,— we see him now. 
As of old to Emmaus 

With His dear ones, — even thus, 
He will walk and talk with us. 



To our upper chambers still 
Where we meet to wait His will, 

He will come, our hearts to fill. 
Living in each secret care, 

Living in each joy or prayer, 
All around us everywhere, 

Jesus lives again. 




Zhxnc lEaeter H)a\>. 




jITHIN thy heart is there an 
opened tomb ? 
Have God's strong angels rolled 
the stone away ? 
Rises thy dead self from its bonds of day ? 
Breaks Heaven's sweet light across the dark 
and gloom ? 
Then is this day in truth thine Easter day. 



If broken down are stony gates of pride, 
If shrouding bands of earth are torn away. 



If sin, and wrath and scorn in thee have 
died, 
Mourn not the past;— the folded shroud 
beside 
Angels will watch ;— it is thine Easter day. 

Rise, new-born soul, and put thine armor on; 
Clasp round thy breast the garments of the 

light ; 
Gird up thy loins for battle. In the fight 
He leads who upward from our sight has 
gone; 
It is His day ; there's no more death nor 
night. 

No dark, no hurt, no more sharp pain nor 
loss ; 
All buried, hidden 'neath the grave's dark 

sod; 
All ways forgotten, save the road He trod ; 
All burdens naught in sight of His— the 

cross ; 
All joy, alive and safe with Christ in God ! 




Z\K mitncBe. 



Y the throb of joy that swells, 
In the sound of Sabbath bells, 
By the praises clear that ring, 
In the songs our glad hearts sing ; 
By the touch of light and bloom 
In the Lenten shade and gloom, 
Know we death has ceased to reign, 
Know we Christ has risen again. 

By the lilies white and sweet, 

Laid down at His sacred feet; 

By the roses blushing red, 

For the thorns that pierced His head— 



By the sea of love and prayer, 
Pulsing round us everywhere, 
By the peace that conquers pain, 
Know we Jesus lives again. 

Lives for us for whom he died ; — 
Closely to his wounded side 
Draws us, in our sorest grief, 
Charms us from our unbelief; 
Lives our daily load to bear, 
Lives, His joy with us to share, 
Closest in our bitterest need 
Christ the Lord is risen indeed. 




VxBcn for ins. 




AY, did it mean to break the 

bands that bound Him 
And stand forth free beneath 
Judea's sky; 
With holy stars above and silence round 

him, 
And all forgot the tomb and Calvary? 

Or did it mean such radiance of glory. 
Breaking from heaven on His ravished sight. 
As blotted out for aye the mournful story 
That ended for Him in the grave's dark 
night ? 



Or did ihe gladness of the new life, throb- 
bing 

In warm free pulses, through His wounded 
heart, 

Shut out from Him the sound of human 
sobbing 

O'er woe and pain in which He once had 
part? 

Nay, nay, not so : whatever priceless bless- 
ing, 

Within his radiant crown of joy was set, 

The grief, the wrong, the burden on us 
pressing 

Are still his own ; — the Lord can not forget ! 

Though from our tearful eyes to heaven 
ascended. 

He yet is with us in each hour of need. 

Though cross, and thorn, and shame for 
Him are ended 

He bears our own ; — the Lord is risen in- 
deed. 



Zhc Dlctor. 




ESTERDAY, distress and gl©om, 
Folded shroud and rock-hewn tomb, 
Where to-day is light and bloom. 

Brooding darkness yesterday, 
On the spot where Jesus lay ; 
Now the stone is rolled away, 

And triumphant voices ring, 
With the hymn the blessed sing, 
Death at last has lost its sting. 



Lost its sting and lost its sway, 
O'er to-day or yesterday. 
Where is now thy victory ? 

Where thy triumph, vaunting grave ?- 
Seas of pardon softly lave 
Souls the Master rose to save. 

And the Easter bells' glad strain, 
Is for all who, washed from stain, 
Rise henceforth o'er sin and pain ! 



Comfort 




ATCHER, waiting for a sign, 
In that doubting heart of thine, 
^^gi Where but shadows darkling lay. 
He will roll the stone away. 

When thy sin, thy shame, thy pride, 

In His tomb lie crucified, 
Christ shall rise in thee to reign, 

And thy dead Lord live again. 

And this life that throbs to-day, 

In each tender word ye say, 
Pulsing in each hope or prayer, 



Is the sign that Christ is there. 



On thy striving drops His calm ; 

On thine anguish falls His balm ; 
Let thy heart its joy-bells ring, 

He, the risen Christ, is King. 




aUve in Ibim. 



« |^3fii^ IFE for us is in his dying!'' 
mSk^^^ So our humbled souls keep 

I^^^P^^ While the Lenten tears fall 

faster 
At the grave that shrouds the Master, 
Till within that gloomy garden 
Shines His presence and His pardon — 
Glimpse of Easter glory giving — 
Then, "Our life is in His living! " 

While He, patient, waits the voicing 
Of our triumph and rejoicing, 
Filled with our own hearts' devices 
Still we bring our burial spices. 
Yet the Love whose taking hallows 
Our poor gifts of myrrh and aloes. 
Rainbows e'en our tears, and raises 
Broken, trembling prayers to praises. 



Watcher where the grave-glooms darken 
Lift thy shadowed soul, and harken ! 
Hear the strong, triumphant singing 
Of the risen in Christ, loud ringing 
In glad anthems from the portals 
Of the home of the Immortals ! 
"Sealed no longer death's dark prison — 
Christ, the Conqueror, is risen!" 

Tarry not to place thy finger 
In the wounds where nail-prints linger; 
Leave the linen cloths that bound him; 
Sing, with Mary, " I have found him ! " 
Be thy mighty love the token 
That for thee His heart was broken. 
Whom the living Christ has shriven 
Knows, e'en here, the peace of heaven. 

Death in Christ is dawning gladness ; 
Life in Christ is robbed of sadness ; 
Faith in Christ that will not falter 
Crowns with Easter bloom his altar, 
Decks his shrine in sweetness vernal, 
Lives with Christ the life eternal, 
Tells, in song and chime and story, 
All a risen Saviour's glory. 



IRolI awa? tbe Stone* 




ELL us not, O song of poet, tales of 
how their white plumes tossed, 
§- Like the snow-capped waves in sea- 
storm, when the knightly lances 
crossed, 
And Christian warred with Saracen for tomb, 
beloved and lost. 

Blood and anguish little counted, life and 

courage all unpriced, 
Gave they to this holy warfare, — naught too 

much, yet naught sufficed, — 
For an empty tomb they battled, not the 

living Christ. 

To this day the Christ lies buried, wrapped 

and hidden in His own, 
Under fold on fold of evil, till the hearts 

meant for His throne. 
Are like graves from whose dark doorway 

none can roll away the stone. 



By such tombs watch weeping women, dark- 
some night and dreary day. 

For one sight of Christ the Master, through 
the folding shroud of clay ; 

For the coming of an angel who shall roll the 
stone away. 

And God sends not one but many, soft of 
word and sweet of face, 

And the stony portal trembles at this miracle 
of grace, 

Till the buried Christ awakens, and His pres- 
ence fills the place. 

God of love where'er the evil shrouds the 
good in hearts of men, 

Grant this miracle of mercy be re-wrought, 
until again 

Good that stifled in its grave-clothes, re- 
appears to mortal ken. 

And defeated souls and fettered, loosed from 

bonds, in freedom stand, 
Ready both to do and suffer at the King's 

divine command ; 
Let the angel touch that frees them be a 

loving woman's hand. 



after igaeten 




H E Easter praises may falter 

And die with the Easter Day, 
The blossoms that brightened 
the altar 
In sweetness may fade away; 
But after the silence and fading 

Lingers a blessing unpriced, 

Above all changing and shading. 

The love of the living Christ. 

For the living Christ is loving, 

And the loving Christ is alive ! 
His life hidden in us is moving 
^ Us ever to pray and to strive. 

RD- 17 



Alas ! that e'en in our striving 
We toil like the spirits in prison, 

Forgetting that Jesus is living, 
Forgetting the Saviour has risen ! 

We join in the Easter rejoicing, 

And echo each gladdening strain 
While a pitiful minor is voicing 

Our own secret doubting or pain. 
We weave Him a shroud of our sadness, 

We cover his smile with our gloom, 
And drive back the angel of gladness 

That waits at the door of the tomb. 

We forget that our own hearts have hidden 

Our Christ in a grave of our own ; 
We forget that our own hands are bidden 

To roll from the threshold the stone. 
Yet our tearful eyes, drooping and weary, 

With watching in sorrow and fear, 
Might see, with the heart-broken Mary, 

That the Lord is alive — and is here. 



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